


just handle with care, my heart.

by sanctify (pains)



Series: 【50 KISSES】A. AGRESTE ♡ [13]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Needs Help, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Vent Writing, post identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pains/pseuds/sanctify
Summary: please don't break it.
Relationships: Ladrien - Relationship, Ladybug/Adrien Agreste
Series: 【50 KISSES】A. AGRESTE ♡ [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624198
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	just handle with care, my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> _38\. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss._  
>   
>   
>  yea so things keep happening and it is not doing ANYTHING good for my mental health so have this vent fic im literally just disgusted with myself bye peace out

“Are you okay?”

He looks up from his face-down position on his bed to see that Ladybug has invited herself into his room. He makes a soft noise, not knowing if it was in agreement or not, and not really caring. They both knew what the answer was, after all.

She sits on the edge of his bed, close enough for him to touch, but he doesn’t. The warmth coming from her suit is enough.

He closes his eyes when he feels fingers covered in spandex brushing through his hair. He’d mentioned to her one quiet patrol night how his mother would run her fingers through his hair to comfort him whenever he had a bad day.

It comforts him but also reminds him of what he’s lost, and he can’t stop the tears from spilling. Ladybug notices, stops for a second, and then softly shushes, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. She doesn’t tell him empty promises like “It’s going to be okay,” or “Better days are coming,” anymore. (She’s insisted that they aren’t empty promises, he disagrees. It’s the topic of their longest-standing argument.)

His breathing evens out, barely suppressed sobs dissolving into sniffles as he swipes his teary face and eyes with his arm. She is ever-present, one hand in his hair, the other on the small of his back, fingers creeping upwards to massage his spine. He still hasn’t flipped over to face her, and she knows not to force him to. She’s gotten good at that, giving him space but also being there for him. (It used to be hard for both of them. He’d be closed off, basically non-verbal. And she didn’t know how to deal with him when he became like this, an empty husk with a soul that’s locked itself up at the deepest recesses of his mind. He loves her, even more than ever, when he remembers those days. She’d stuck by his side even at his ugliest. She never gave up on him. He’d say he didn’t deserve her if she didn’t beat it into his skull that she would die rather than choose anyone else that wasn’t him.)

Her hands comfort him. If he had been transformed, he’d be purring right now. More out of distress and displeasure than its happier counterpart.

She starts humming. It’s one of the pieces he’s played for her in the music room back at school. Lunchtime, hiding out in the music room instead of going back to the empty walls of a cold, cold home, exchanging kisses like trading cards, just being normal teenagers for a few hours before he had to be whisked away to do whatever the heck his schedule said that day.

It’s a piece he wrote as he was thinking of her in all her entirety. In the suit, she was reliable, larger-than-life, and powerful. Outside of the suit, she was bubbly, charming, and kind. The song had been something he’d composed on the fly one day, bored out of his mind and not in the mood to practice Liszt. It had been a wonderful gift to her for their second anniversary, if the kisses she littered across his entire face after he played meant anything.

He had been so proud of himself back then. Felt like he was Superman, like he could take on anything so long as she was by his side.

He wishes to go back to that way of thinking, please. He doesn’t like it when his own brain rebels against him, makes him think he is undeserving of love or praise, makes him think that he’s only being used, by her, by his friends, by his father.

He just wants to get better.

_ It’s not that easy, _ a sneering voice replies.  _ It will never be that easy. _

He doesn’t deserve love or praise. He doesn’t deserve to be—

His self-sabotaging thoughts are cut off by the familiar sound of her bandalore pulling away.

Guilt churns deep in his belly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly against his pillow.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, Adrien,” he feels her shift on his bed, and soon he feels her body lying down beside him, and he  _ feels _ her arms wrap around his waist.

He turns, slowly, to slither into her arms as more tears escape his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters into the crook of her neck.

“Don’t be,” she kisses the crown of his head. “I’ll protect you this time.”

She lets him cry into her arms.

He gently pulls away from her after what seems like hours of crying his heart out. And he has enough energy to chuckle, breathing is difficult with his nose clogged, his cheeks wet and ruddy.

She smiles sadly at him, hands reaching up to wipe his tears away with her thumbs.

“Do you need me to stay the night?” She asks.

“Please. If you don’t mind.”

“Never.” She replies, soft and sure, and he loves her so much. What did he ever do to deserve her?

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, mon coeur,” she replies, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Get some sleep. I’ll watch out for any more butterflies.”

“Thank you.”

He feels her comforting fingers in his hair again. “You’re welcome. I’m always here for you.”

His thoughts calm down, and just for tonight, he believes her.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [reflekdoll](http://twitter.com/reflekdoll)


End file.
